


Cockage-sama

by panda_shi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambitious But Rubbish, Crack, Drinking, Drinking Games, Epic Friendship, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gross, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, M/M, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Post-Naruto Time Skip | Naruto Shippuden, Why Did I Write This?, toilet jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_shi/pseuds/panda_shi
Summary: “Confident, are we?” Kakashi deadpans.Iruka pulls back away from Kakashi, leaning comfortably on the bar stool, oozing confidence. “Kakashi-sama, I’m pretty sure I can drink you under the table.”
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111





	Cockage-sama

**Author's Note:**

> Self-beta'd rubbish.

“You are so chicken-shit when it comes to prepositioning anyone that I bet you wouldn’t even be able to fart a word out to the Hokage that isn’t work related,” Kotetsu had said, rolling his eyes.

Iruka kicks Kotetsu at the shins, who proceeds to howl into his glass of beer. “That isn’t true and you know it.”

“I’m just saying! You’re so invested in being polite that you have forgotten to have fun! I miss the sixteen, shameless, devil may care Iruka that had been a lot more fun than this uppity thing we call a friend now,” Kotetsu grumps, reaching down to rub his shin.

“That is a horrible thing to say! What is wrong with you? I am not boring!” Iruka protests.

“You are,” Izumo mutters.

“You agree?” Iruka sounds shocked, turning his head back and forth between two of his closest friends.

Izumo hums a sound of confirmation, shrugging apologetically, though not really apologetic about the admission.

Iruka likes to think that he is polite and proper. It is something that he actively invests on because he has learned to believe that politeness is an upscale of the soul. That being polite speaks and proves depth of one’s personality such as requesting for things politely, joking tastefully in the workplace, apologizing sincerely, remembering that manners is an art in how one treats those around them. It is a status, politeness, that is, so the more one’s manners get elevated, the higher their stature.

But sometimes, Iruka forgets to be polite when his feathers get a touch ruffled. Like being called boring. Or bland.

Not that he is.

But his prankster and partying-like-you’re-dying-the-next-day, Y.O.L.O days are long over. That is something Iruka had buried fondly the day he decided to be an Academy’s teacher, to be a symbol and dependable person that his students can count on. He had amazing memories from all the fun he had during his younger years. Plenty of embarrassing moments too. It’s wrong to be thankful for Konoha’s destruction, but a teeny-tiny part of him had been happy that during the devastation, most if not _all_ of the black mail material (photos, video evidence) of his shameless days have been lost and destroyed. It’s like getting handed a clean slate in terms of one’s reputation.

Callous as it may sound.

Shallow, even.

“I choose to be polite,” Iruka defends, setting his first glass of beer down, burping a little behind a fist whilst excusing himself after. “What’s wrong with being polite?”

“When was the last time you even fucked someone or got fucked by someone just because you made eye contact? In fact, forget that, that may be unfair example. When was the last time you even used a karaoke machine?” Kotetsu throws an arm up in the air. “In fact, when was the last you time you partook in a bar wide,” Kotetsu gesticulates with his arms at the whole bar. “drinking contest? The old you would have started it, no doubt!”

“My kids’ parents could be here!” Iruka grinds out.

“So?” Izumo cocks an eyebrow. “Iruka, you are the best Academy teacher there is. Your reputation is solid. And everyone in here is a shinobi who is enjoying themselves.” Izumo tips his chin at the karaoke, where a group of tipsy shinobi are belching out wrong lyrics to a popular pop-song with their arms hooked around each other’s shoulder in chain, swaying side to side in unison. “Or really enjoying themselves.” Izumo jerks a thumb at three people in corner, making out with each other, altering between themselves, tongue and all.

Iruka twitches. How utterly shameless of them. “They should at least consider a darker corner.” Kotetsu throws both his hands up in the air, like he’s won some sort of bed. “What?”

“When was the last time you even gambled?” Kotetsu asks.

Iruka huffs, utterly unimpressed. “We teachers don’t get paid as much! And I’m rarely field active! So it would be irresponsible of me to throw away my hard earned wages—“

“—right, right.” Kotetsu waves a hand dismissively. “Gods, you are boring! The only interesting thing you’ve done tonight is the fact that you’ve consumed seven baskets of spicy chicken wings. Good luck with your acid-poop tomorrow morning. I hope your politeness gives you spicy sauce diarrhea.”

Kotetsu gets a clock upside the head for that statement. Iruka thinks he deserves it. Some friend he is.

“If you’re so keen on proving that you are not boring, then show us you still got it and we promise you, hand on heart, that this will never be brought up again.” Izumo nods.

“We do?” Kotetsu asks, face twisting. Izumo gives him a pointed look causing said expression to iron out to something more serious. “We do.” Kotetsu corrects.

“Do you take me for an idiot?” Iruka _stares_ at both his best friends.

“Yes.” They chorus.

“Well, if I’m going to do something like this, there has to be something in it for me! Pay my next five months rent. And lunch at the Academy. I want catered meals from Haru’s.” Iruka crosses his arms.

“Two months rent, three months lunch,” Izumo bargains.

“Five months rent, five months lunch,” Iruka corrects, not budging.

“Three months rent, three months lunch” Kotetsu haggles.

“Done.” Iruka shrugs, sticking his hand out. “Shake on it?”

“You got yourself a deal, Iruka. Now, go. Spread your wings. Put your money where you mouth is,” Kotetsu waves, making shooing gestures with his hand. “I _dare_ you.”

*

It is a dare.

A horrible, impolite, unrealistic dare.

But dares are sacred if harmless. And honestly, Y.O.L.O at the end of the day.

Which is how he finds himself that evening marching up to Kakashi, in the middle of Gai’s birthday party, drink in hand once Gai and Kakashi’s challenge of who can juggle the most barstools conclude, and pointedly says, “Hokage-sama, I challenge you to a drinking game.”

Somewhere on the other of the bar, Iruka hears Kotetsu and Izumo _snort_ their beers. Good. He hopes it burns the shit out their sinuses. May the pain lurk for days, even. Iruka could have picked anyone in the bar, but hey, if he’s going to flush his reputation down the toilet, he might as well do it with the highest ranking man in the room. At least then, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he embarrasses himself. Of course the Hokage would win _anything_. They’re not the Hokage for no reason!

Kakashi spares Iruka a side glance from where he’s leaning against the bar on his elbows. And then responds with the most deadpanned voice. “No.”

“What’s wrong? Scared you’d lose?” Iruka taunts. He’s not above taunting if it means three months of budget savings. Kakashi makes a noise in his throat, something that sounds mocking and just a touch dismissive, as his gloved hand swirls his glass of whiskey on the rocks.

“Iruka, how much have you had to drink tonight?” Kakashi drawls, perhaps a touch unimpressed.

“I’ve only had one beer. So I’m very sober and very serious,” Iruka confirms, setting his drink down on the counter and seating himself on the empty stool beside Kakashi. “I will not take no for an answer. If you win, I’ll let you dictate your terms on how you want to claim your spoils.”

“Claim my spoils…” Kakashi parrots, quirking an eyebrow at Iruka, still looking bored as ever. Gods, it’s so hard to get a read on this man. Is he ever just not bored?

From beside Kakashi, Gai appears, his wheel chair turning to face them, a look of most open curiosity upon his face, a gleam in his eye. “Gai-san can play referee. Pick your poison. Gai-san, I am challenging Kakashi-sama to a drinking game, but I feel he won’t take part. I do understand that being the Hokage is the most trying if not the most difficult job in the world.” Iruka nods, watching as Gai seems to soak up his words like a dry sponge on water. “And that it is, without a doubt incredibly stressful. So stressful that I am sure it could possibly bring forth… _performance issues_ …” Iruka give Kakashi a deliberate, slow, glance over, from top to bottom, dragging out the syllables as slow as he can. “Which if that is the case, I wouldn’t want to make your _limp noodle_ – I mean, I wouldn’t want to add unwanted _stress_ upon you,” Iruka pauses for a beat and then adds. “Kakashi-sama.”

Gai had tears in his eyes.

Big, fat, glimmering, crystalline tears.

That suddenly gets accompanied by rambunctious laughter, head thrown back and all, the sound of it _booming_ all across the bar.

Iruka picks up his glass, a flush blossoming on his cheeks because good gods, he can’t believe he just poked at a man’s most sensitive issue just to get his point across. He can’t believe that he picked the Hokage, of all people. Kakashi is deliberately looking at him now, something sharp in his gaze, perhaps killing intent, Iruka wouldn’t be surprised. It brushes over the length of Iruka’s body like the burn of hot wax cooling upon skin. Iruka’s throat goes dry at that look, at how Kakashi’s thumb continues to trace the rim of his glass without pausing, like he’s not at all perturbed by this proposition.

Three months rent, three months _good, filling_ lunch. Three months rent, three months _good, filling_ lunch.

Iruka repeats that like a monk praying sutras at a temple, over and over again in his head.

Until Kakashi says, “Limp noodle, huh?”

“I mean, you are _old_ ,” Iruka sighs. “I’m sorry, Hokage-sama. What was I thinking? This is wrong. I shouldn’t put this upon you—“

“-sake.” Kakashi says.

“Beg your pardon?” Iruka blinks, caught off guard.

“Sake.” Kakashi repeats. “We can use sake. And once this is over, you and I are going to have a long conversation about public challenges, Iruka- _sensei_.”

Iruka pretends that his stomach didn’t just drop to his ass, that the seven baskets of chicken wings didn’t just gurgle unpleasantly in his stomach. He swallows with a tight smile plastered on his face, pretending he’s not seeing Gai who is now doubled in stitches and waving for the bar tender in between mirth of laughter to bring forth five jars of sake.

“If you lose, sure,” Iruka negotiates. “We can have that conversation.”

“And if I win?” Kakashi tilts his head, curious.

“Well,” Iruka leans over, looking into Kakashi’s eyes and shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll let you decide what you want after that, Kakashi-sama. If it’s within my power to give, then I will honor your request.”

Iruka doesn’t know _why_ he winks at the end of that sentence.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to _flirt_ with the Hokage.

Somewhere in the back of the room, he catches sight of Izumo and Kotetsu’s jaw hitting the sticking floor.

Serves them right.

Iruka is going to get slapped with a disciplinary action, either way. He might as well do it and say that he actually, truly propositioned the Hokage.

Besides, Kakashi isn’t an unattractive man. He smells kind of nice too. Apparnetly, Kakashi’s eyelashes is a shade darker than his hair, long and curled. It’s fascinating. Iruka never noticed that about him.

Then again, he’s never been a breath’s distance away from Kakashi’s masked face either.

“Confident, are we?” Kakashi deadpans.

Iruka pulls back away from Kakashi, leaning comfortably on the bar stool, oozing confidence. “Kakashi-sama, I’m pretty sure I can drink you under the table.”

“We’ll see.” Kakashi smirks.

*

The crowd is cheering, loud and deafening when Iruka picks up his thirtieth – no, maybe fortieth sake cup and tips it backwards with flourish. Maybe it’s the fiftieth. Iruka isn’t sure anymore. The crowd goes wild, a deafening applause filling the space of the bar, all eyes and bodies turned towards the Hokage and Iruka, who remains on their spots on the bar, as Gai tallies each tip of a cup with a pad paper and small pencil. Iruka turns to watch the bar tender take away the second empty jar of sake and replace it with a third.

Kakashi does the same with his fiftieth cup, or whatever, number it is, the liquid disappearing behind the mask that Kakashi tugs back up to adjust over the bridge of his nose.

The crowd goes even wilder, a few ryo bills flying in the air as bets continues to be placed in support of the Hokage.

Their cups get refilled. They have successfully reached their third litre of sake.

Iruka stares at his cup, ducking just a little bit to gather his bearings, evening out his breathing as he tries very hard to not let his eyes swivel to the back of his head in a distressed sense of a headache. The walls and faces around him had long ago morphed to that of a fun house, changing figures with every blink of Iruka’s eyes. Iruka can smell his own breath now, something quite disgusting, and almost chemical like, his entire mouth sore like he had a bad case of mouth blisters from the amount of alcohol he’s been steadily pouring down his throat. Iruka blinks to clear the jelly like faces of the people around him, clearing his throat ones as his fingers find the cup in front of him and he tips in backwards before the liquid can have a chance of even thinking of coming back up.

Iruka gives Kakashi a look, grinning ear to ear like he’s won.

Kakashi simply snorts, looking ever so composed save for the slight flush on his cheekbones as he empties the cup before him.

Gai screams out the current count, something that makes the crowd whoop and applaud, above the safety decibel levels. Iruka finds himself flinching at the noise, but ends up laughing with them too because gods, this is hilarious. This is so funny. Epic proportions funny! He’s actually challenged the _Hokage_ of Konoha to a drinking game and Kakashi is keeping up! Iruka doesn’t remember ever consuming three litres of sake before. What a magnanimous, stupendous, Hokage-worthy performance from Kakashi. As expected from the strongest man in the village, whose digestive system is clearly unparalleled. What a body! What a man!

Iruka doesn’t realize he’s actually voiced his thoughts out loud, because Kakashi is looking at him with his chin propped on a palm, an eyebrow quirked in what he hopes is amusement. Or maybe it’s disgust.

Oops.

Whatever.

“Sorry, Hokage-sama, you make it so easy to objectify you,” Iruka chuckles, hiccupping a little behind a fist. Something he politely excuses himself for, much to what looks like, Kakashi’s amusement.

“You should admit defeat before you do or say something that you regret,” Kakashi advises, just as Iruka tips back his empty sake and Kakashi follows suit.

“I never back down from a challenge,” Iruka huffs, wrinkling his nose with distaste at the suggestion. What was Kakashi thinking? That because he’s a chuunin, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t honor a challenge? “I have a lot riding on this contest. Therefore, I won’t back down. I will defeat you, Hokage-sama.”

“Is that so?” Kakashi drawls. He’s smirking. Clearly smirking. For sure.

“Very much so. So if you don’t mind, Hokage-sama, kindly refrain from convincing me to concede defeat at once! Don’t be so shameless! Drink your cup immediately and be silent!” Iruka turns his nose up, picks up his sake cup and drains that too.

That one slides down his throat with a little more difficulty.

Kakashi chuckles, emptying his cup without betraying any sort of difficulty. Is he even human?

“Last checked, I was, yes,” Kakashi says, making Iruka blink in his direction.

What the hell? Did Kakashi have a technique to mind read? How is he even responding to Iruka’s thoughts?

“You’re speaking loudly, Iruka,” Kakashi points out, most definitely smirking.

Oh.

“I was not!” Iruka defends. “How rude and direct of you! Apologize at once! This unacceptable, even if your eyes sparkle like polished marbles!”

Kakashi _snorts_ at that. “Marbles.”

“Majestic marbles. With eyelashes like those in magazines. They swoosh like this,” Iruka says, making a upward curving gesture with his hand. Funny that. It makes him chuckle amusedly. “Which is so odd because it looks so soft upon that hard body of yours!”

“My hard body, huh,” Kakashi grins, lines appearing around the corners of his eyes.

“Kakashi-sama, don’t be shameless! Every shinobi is in possession of a hard body! Just because you are the Hokage, it doesn’t make you special! Everyone is hard working and trains diligently! That is the truth!” Iruka nods, wrinkling his nose just a little bit as he picks up his sake cup and tips it back with even greater difficulty this time around. Gods, those chicken wings seem to be swimming in sake circles somewhere in his stomach, now.

“I’m only repeating what you’re saying, Iruka. Really, you should admit defeat before those… chicken wings end up on the floor.” Kakashi gives Iruka a pointed look.

“Stop reading my mind!” Iruka grumps, pointing at Kakashi. “That is an invasion of privacy! Hokage or not! Handsome or not!”

“Handsome?” Kakashi laughs.

“Don’t be coy! I know you think your hot stuff, strutting and sashaying around here like you own the place! Please exercise some control and reign in some of your good looks, Kakashi-sama!” Iruka huffs, rolling his eyes.

Which seems to be a bad move, because everything else around the room rolls with it too.

Really, he ought to give Kakahsi a piece of his mind. Remind him to focus on the challenge and stop needlessly reading his mind. Yes, Iruka gets it. He’s the Hokage. He must have special powers and special abilities to be honored that title. Yes, he’s got the body, the charisma, the aura, the looks and sharp jaw and wonderful dark gray eyes, unique in its stormy shade, framed by lustrous long lashes. Polished marbles, indeed. The expensive kind. The fancy kind. Not the ones Iruka played with as a child, no those were dirt cheap; those are probably Iruka’s eyes. Cheap marbles that is. Kakashi is lovely to look at, nice broad shoulders, a thick confident neck, lean built and all. If only he didn’t slouch too much. What a damn shame that does to him, the slouching. It’s bad posture and does not earn him any favor. Kakashi should strut about like a wild forest cock – confident, chest out, regal. Yes, do no doubt he would have a cock to match that persona, thick maybe, long and heavy when hard, probably generous with the precum too, after all, Kakashi is one fine, hot blooded, relatively not-so-old man. Ah, Iruka would want to suck that thick flesh, taste power on his tongue, trace the veins with his lips and watch Kakashi come undone in his mouth as he drinks all that, suck him dry, beg for more, maybe.

Wait. Why is Kakashi leering?

“My. You are absolutely shameless, aren’t you, Iruka- _sensei_?” Kakashi says.

Huh?  
  
Him?

“Excuse me!” Iruka brings his hands to his hips, pointedly ignoring the count that Gai once again yells to the crowd, whose cheer seems to shake the floor and make Iruka’s world rock a little dangerously. “Who are you calling shameless?”

“I didn’t think you’d be the kind of man to have such… thoughts,” Kakashi luridly says, the words dripping with something so vulgar.

“Please be a respectable man of your station, Kakashi-sama,” Iruka reminds him, crossing his arms once he chugs down another cup of sake.

“Says the man who verbally voices out his fantasy for his Hokage’s… cock,” Kakashi says, tipping his glass back with little to no difficulty.

Iruka honestly debates conceding defeat. His ass is starting to clench uncomfortably, his stomach turning.

“I have – why I have never! To accuse me of such things – please don’t be so full of yourself! Have some shame!” Iruka snaps, flushing all the way to his chest. Seriously, just because he admits wanting to suck off an attractive man _in his mind_ , doesn’t give Kakashi the right to so haughtily say it out loud in a crowded bar. Not that anyone is paying attention to their conversation, anyway. Everyone is busy switching bets. “And so what if I do? You can’t punish me or even slap me with a disciplinary action for having _thoughts!_ Don’t be an idiot! Are you trying to be a tyrant?”

Kakashi leans over, just enough to whisper, “You should really concede defeat now. You’ll regret this in the morning.”

“Three months rent, three months lunch. From Haru’s. I don’t think so, Cockage-sama,” Iruka places a hand on Kakashi’s chest, fingers spreading out on the expanse of that nice chest. Very, very nice chest, now that Iruka is touching it, warmth emanating through thick vest. Iruka tilts his head, undressing Kakashi with his gaze, wondering how much scars there must be on his skin, if some of them would be sensitive under Iruka’s tongue, under his teeth, even. If Kakashi liked have his nipples licked, sucked, maybe teased with his teeth.

“All right, I think you’ve had enough,” Kakashi says, pushing away Iruka’s sake cup towards the bar tended and shaking his head.

“Says who?” Iruka gasps, indignant. “This is far from over.”

“Iruka concedes,” Kakashi announces, loud and clear. That causes a _roar_ to erupt. They have successfully emptied three litres of sake. What a feat!

“I did not!” Iruka argues, getting to his feet, ready to fight for his right, his title. His three months rent and lunch! That budget would mean he can go on severely luxurious trip to the hot springs in the summer! Is Kakashi mad? “Take that back, Bakage-sama! I did not concede—“

Iruka stomps his foot on the sticky floor, something he shouldn’t have done because the reverberations shoots up from the sole of his foot all the way to his brain, making him see stars for a moment as the world tilts a little bit to the left, the movement put to a halt when Kakashi grips him firmly by the arm.

“You’re done,” Kakashi announces, so regally. So sexily. Did his voice always sound like that?

“Fine, I’ll suck your dick. Come on. Let’s get it over done with. Drop your pants, Cockage-sama,” Iruka says, attempting to tilt his chin up. Except he fails because his head suddenly _throbs_. “It better be a big, fleshy, meaty sausage, Cockage-sama, or else.”

“Or else what?” Kakashi challenges.

“I’ll fuck your ass instead,” Iruka snorts, the sound of Kakashi’s very loud laughter making his ears bleed.

One moment Iruka is standing up.

The next he’s sliding down to his knees.

*

And jolting up with a snort when the sound of birds chirping reaches his ears. Iruka sits up with a sharp jerk, looking around him with his hair nearly free from his ponytail, looking like a long haired cat that had just taken a tumble down the hill. Gods, his stomach hurts. His head hurts, like there’s a balloon steadily inflating under his cranium, the pressure steadily mounting with each breath Iruka takes.

Fuck, did he even win that god awful challenge.

“No.”

“Who there!” Iruka snaps, turning around to source of the sound, only to groan when he finds Kakashi seated on a sofa, feet crossed at the ankle, reading a luridly green book. “Hokage-sama!”

Iruka blinks at his surroundings. Oh gods. He’s in the official Hokage residence, spread shamelessly like a fucking porn star on the sofa. Oh no.

“Ah, we’re done with Cockage-sama, I suppose.” Kakashi turns a page.

“If I said anything yesterday, please pretend you didn’t hear anything. In fact, please pretend none of this happened,” Iruka mutters. “And accept my sincerest apology.”

Kakashi hums. “Doesn’t sound sincere.”

Iruka’s stomach _gurgles_. Dangerously. Protesting.

Oh no.

The chicken wings.

The sake!

“Where’s the bathroom?” Iruka asks, panic starting to rise like high tide.

Kakashi jerks his thumb at the door down the hallway, to which Iruka makes a mad dash for, clenching his ass like his life depends on it. He bumps his knee on the edge of the coffee table, nearly knocks off a decorative lamp as he throws feet and body forward, making a wild dash for the toilet. Which he finds, shuts with a loud, audible bang and turns the lock. Iruka’s ass explodes before he manages to fully sit on the toilet, his legs compressed as he barely manages to push his pants down further than mid thigh.

It bubbles. It gurgles. All of last nights dinner and drinks leaving him in a hot foamy splash of an acidic mess. Iruka grabs on to the wall, _groaning_ , fisting his hands on the tiles as his body reminds him that it is not a vessel to be fucked with. That it had been so stupidly ambitious not to mention voracious of him to dare the Hokage into a drinking contenst all after shamelessly devouring far too many spicy chicken wings. The echoing sound of sloshing matter fills the bathroom, probably echoing all the way to the living room oh gods, Iruka wants to cry, and die on the spot because good, fucking, all mighty, he’s shitting diarrhea in the Hokage’s official residence.

He has reached an all new low.

Oh gods, the smell.

Oh gods, why does he continually put himself in these kind of situations? Why? No way would Kakashi ever look at him like he’s human. Not after this.

A knock sounds from the door. “You okay?”

“ _Go away!_ ” Iruka _yells_ , as he farts something that suspiciously sounds like water boiling in an electric kettle, gritting his teeth, the force of it making him lurch just a little bit in the toilet. “ _Fuck off, Hokage-sama, oh my god! What is wrong with you?_ ”

Silence follows.

Only to be disturbed by Iruka’s guts making more explosive noises that leaves him half groaning, half screaming in the small now reeking guest bathroom.

Gods, he’s going to kill Izumo and Kotetsu.

And then bury himself somewhere where no one can exhume his body.

*

Iruka steps out of the bathroom after what feels like a decade later. He’s pretty sure the toilet will need some form of holy ceremony after it’s been preferably burnt to the ground.

Kakashi is standing down the hallway, holding a glass that is fizzing with something white. Iruka takes it wordlessly, drinks the contents and then leans on the wall weakly.

“Sorry.” Iruka mutters, utterly shamefaced.

Kakashi hums, sounding amused.

“You can dock my pay if you decide to remodel your bathroom,” Iruka murmurs, flushing to the roots of his hair.

“I’m sure you can get more creative than that; you did after all come up with Cockage-sama,” Kakashi reminds Iruka, making Iruka bury his face in his hands.

“Sorry about that too,” Iruka _sighs_. This really is a new low for him.

“Don’t be,” Kakashi says. Iruka brings his hand down and finds Kakashi looking at him, amusement tugging at his features, breath warm against Iruka’s cheek, lips clearly stretched to a grin under the thin dark fabric of his mask. “And your eyes do not resemble cheap marbles, Iruka. Far from it.”

Kakashi’s eyes soften, something gleaming in the dark stormy depths, heated like the slow burn of dark coals, belying something that makes Iruka powerlessly stare, his gaze dropping down quickly to Kakashi’s lips that is mere centimeters away from him. Like this, Iruka can feel Kakashi’s breath, a heated caress upon his own lips, something cool and minty lingering in the air between them. Iruka can’t look away, can’t stop himself from staring at his Hokage like he’s a hopeless boy waiting for his first kiss. Kakashi leans a little closer, a hand coming up to the wall beside Iruka’s head, something like amusement and fire in his gaze that makes Iruka’s heart jackhammer under his ribs, his breath come short and abated somewhere in his throat. Kakashi upclose truly isn’t bad to look at. Not one bit. In fact, he’s really, _really_ nice to look at. It makes Iruka want to slide down to his knees, peel Kakashi's pants down, not dare look away from the hot gaze, to keep looking at it as he parts his mouth, to feel that _power_ , that hot hold that's like a collar around his neck as he takes hot flesh in his mouth, to be watched by Kakashi-

And then Kakashi pushes off, leaving Iruka to tilt his head to one side, watching Kakashi wave, as he heads for the front door. Iruka blinks, stumped.

Huh?

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write in acid-poop in a fic. And then I dunno where my goblin trash brain went. 
> 
> Also, sorry, I haven't written KKIR in a while. A for effort?


End file.
